


She is dead and gone

by Eatgreass



Series: The slow descent [4]
Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Angst, Gen, POV Ophelia, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, just pure angst, ophelias death was one of agency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25057303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eatgreass/pseuds/Eatgreass
Summary: One does not pick and prepare that number of flowers on a whim. People do not wear such white and unmarred dresses without reason.
Series: The slow descent [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899646
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	She is dead and gone

**Author's Note:**

> I will not rest until I get to tell Ophelia's side of the story.

There are very few things that can prompt a woman to meander into a lake, softly singing to herself.

  
Ophelia has experienced all of the horrors necessary to take her final steps into the black water.

  
Many people would call the woman mad, scorn her, scorn the royal family for finally cracking her skull into shattered bits. Many people are wrong about a lot of things. For although Ophelia's meandering steps, slow smile, and tattered dress gave her all the dressings of madness, she was perfectly sane. And perhaps it was her sanity that made her want to leave the mortal world. After all, only the truly mad would attempt to live among the Danish royal court.

  
No, Ophelia was not mad that day. She was ready. She spent the night before her death awake in bed, tossing and turning, and above all, thinking.

  
It really was worth it, wasn’t it? The eternal damnation she was about to face was no more terrifying than living in this world. A world without her father, the only person she could read like a book. A world where Claudius was the king, and her prince Hamlet was slowly unraveling. No, Ophelia wanted her death to mean something, for she was not stupid enough to sit in the palace, and let herself be used as a pawn for both sides of a pointless dispute.

  
Ophelia had made her choice by morning. She refused to accept the lot she had been thrown, instead opting for something, anything else. For despite the divine law that one shalt not kill, including oneself, Ophelia was trapped between a rock and a hard place. She was not insane for her decision. She prepared. One does not pick and prepare that number of flowers on a whim. People do not wear such white and unmarred dresses without reason.

  
Dawn. Perhaps the servants would assume she was flaunting her wealth, and the wealth of the royal family. Perhaps they would not care what she planned to do in the dew-covered morning, the last morning that she would see. Ophelia had built her funeral pyre, now all that it took was to step up to it, and light the flame to end her and cleanse her in equal measure. She gathered her courage. She gathered her fear. She gathered her flowers.

  
So, wordlessly, humming only nonsense and holding only flowers that she had picked from the grounds of the castle, Ophelia took her last steps into the water and let it engulf her. She smiled. Her first choice that carried weight was walking into the cold, murky water of the lake and letting herself rest forever. Very fitting. No matter the reaction to her death, it had been her choice. She was content with that knowledge. That it was her choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Arg I really wanted to find a place to use morning/mourning as a pun but it sounded cheesy whenever I tried to put it in. Ah, well, there's always a next time. 
> 
> My tumblr is @eatgreass but if you wanna see me talk about hamlet go to @king-of-a-walnut


End file.
